


A certain kind of hurt

by jesseofthenorth



Series: Will you still need me (like that beatles song)? When I'm 64 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop, heavy on the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint <i>hurts</i> some days. Phil will never stop trying to make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A certain kind of hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I trie to make it fluffy, honest I did. Let's call this... fluff adjacent... or fluffy-ish. It's fluff for a certain definition of fluff.

Sometimes Clinton F Barton is a stubborn dumbass. Phil loves him anyway. Which is a good thing because even after all this time Clint is bad at taking care of himself. Especially on the days when the winter rain is heavy and New York is cold, so very cold. 

The sky turns a flat gunmetal grey and you can tell the weather is undecided between rain and snow. These are the days when Clint hurts the worst. He claims he can tell when the rain is going to turn to snow because of the way his hands ache 'all the way down to the marrow'. Phil watches Clint's beautiful, twisted hands knot together, pressing into each other or pulling carefully at each finger looking for relief.

Phil goes into their bathroom, getting the supplies he needs out of the cabinet. Clint is still working at his hands, and grimacing now, trying to get some relief. Phil sits down beside him pulling thin vinyl gloves on and squeezing some the contents of the tube he is carrying into one hand. Phil rubs his hands together a bit, spreading the cream and then gently takes one of Clint battered aching hands and begins to rub the cream in.

It doesn't take long before Phil can feel the heat of the capsaicin soaking through his gloves. He knows Clint can feel it too because there is a thin line of sweat on his forehead, and the quality of his grimace changes. Phil wonders sometimes if the burn of the cream is _more_ than CLint's arthritis. Clint doesn't complain though, just sits with his eyes closed gritting his teeth waiting for relief.

When the cream has all soaked in Phil switches hands and goes through the same procedure.

Phil knows it burns like a bastard. Before he ever thought of trying capsaicin cream on Clint's joints he tried it on his own first. He has a little arthritis in one knee so it made sense. And there was no way he was going to inflict something this uncomfortable on Clint (no matter _what_ Clint said) without testing it on himself first. Honestly his leg would have to be on the verge of falling the fuck off before Phil would willingly try it again. He explained that to Clint in detail before trying it on Clint's hands the first time.  
Phil still remembers the gritted teeth and the tears in the corners of Clint's eyes, and holding his hands up with a whispered “It can't be worse than this”. Phil also clearly remembers when the cream started to soak into Clint's skin that first time, the burn dissipating and taking the pain with it. The look of pure relief told Phil everything he needed to know.

So, now, Phil rubs the cream into Clint's other hand and waits for the moment when the heat recedes taking the overwhelming pain with it.

“Better?” Phil asks carefully stripping the gloves off, making sure they turn inside out as he does it.

Clint is leaning back against the sofa cushions, eyes closed, pure relief written across the beloved planes of his face. The shadows etched there by pain lessened if not entirely gone.

“God yeah. 'S perfect now.”

Phil doubts perfect would be the word _he_ would use, but it's something and Phil will take it.

Phil moves to stand but Clint's hand grips his sleeve. “Stay. Please. Just for a while.” He rolls his head toward Phil a slightly dopey smile on his face now. It's always leaves him slightly exhausted when the pain finally wains.

Phil smiles in return “Of course, you dope” and leans in to kiss Clint's temple where blonde hairs turn gray. “Of course.”


End file.
